


Rodimus Was Half-Right

by GreyLiliy



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-03
Updated: 2013-10-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:48:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22595050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyLiliy/pseuds/GreyLiliy
Summary: Ultra Magnus visits Swerve’s Bar—It does not go the way he wants (but maybe it turned out better).
Relationships: Swerve & Ultra Magnus
Kudos: 8





	Rodimus Was Half-Right

**Author's Note:**

> [First posted to Tumblr on October 3, 2013 as “Drabble #69 - Ultra Magnus/Swerve.” Crossposted to Archive of Our Own on February 6, 2020. Only the work itself has been posted.]
> 
> Written as a Request.

Ultra Magnus was in his bar.

Swerve froze, the glass he had prepared for Skids hovering two inches over the counter top. It was working hours–peak working hours, even! And Ultra Magnus was standing in the doorway of Swerve’s bar. The imposing figure stood awkwardly, his heavy mass shifting nervously, as every single optic in the place had turned to look at him.

Swerve set the glass down slowly, a million thoughts running through his processor. _Why was Magnus here?_ Ever since Hedonia, Swerve had a perfectly valid bar license via Rodimus, so the bar was official. _Had one of his customers done something?_ Swerve shook his head. That was a given. Had they done something _lately?_

Magnus stayed in the doorway, his finger twitching slightly under everyone’s steady gaze. They were all waiting for him to say something.

After a moment Ultra Magnus averted his eyes and backed out of the doorway, and out of sight down the hallway.

“Skids, watch the bar for me,” Swerve said, tapping the counter with his finger. He tossed the cleaning rag he’d stuffed in his hip on the counter. “You know much stuff costs, and don’t forget Blaster has free drinks.”

“Hey!” Skids called out as Swerve, dropped off his step-stool and rounded the bar corner. “Where are you going?”

Swerve dove out of the bar entrance quickly, sliding on the floor as he rounded the corner and tapped down the hallway. Skids could take care of the bar, just fine. There was something more important to be handled at the moment. Swerves grinned as he spotted a flicker of Magnus’ blue armor passing by the next corridor.

Swerve made a run for it. “Magnus! Wait up!”

The devoted to the Tyrest Accord stopped, his hands clenched into a fist. He filtered air heavily through his vents, before turning to look down at Swerve. There was something weary behind his optics. Something familiar Swerve knew all too well. Magnus asked, “Did you need something, Swerve?”

“I was about to ask you the same,” Swerve said. He crossed his arms, and tried to keep his voice light: welcoming. “Not often you visit the bar, but you weren’t there for long. Were you just checking up on us?”

“Something like that,” Magnus said. His fist tightened, the motion of it stressing the joints in his fingers. Magnus’ voice sounded strained, pulled tight as if he wasn’t sure of the words. “It was nothing important.”

Swerve rubbed his index finger, rolling the digit between his thumb and fingers. Something wasn’t adding up. Magnus’ posture, his face, the lonli–Swerve stilled. The minibot dropped his arms loosely by his sides, and smiled sadly. “Did you come for a drink, Magnus?”

The Second-in-Command didn’t move.

“You know,” Swerve said, tilting his head up, “You’re as welcome there as anyone else, right?”

“Didn’t appear that way,” Magnus said, his optics darting to stare at a loose bolt in the wall. He stuck his thumb on it and twisted, locking it back into place. “It was a mistake to even attempt.”

Swerve frowned rubbed his hands into his thigh. “It’s my bar.”

“I am aware,” Magnus said.

“No, I mean it’s _my_ bar,” Swerve said. “If someone gave you a hard time about being there, I’d kick them out. Everyone’s welcome, Magnus, and you’re part of ‘everyone.’”

“I believe your bar is currently unsupervised, Swerve,” Magnus said, attempting to change the topic. He pat the newly replaced screw in the wall. “In the end, I think it’s best if I refrained, but thank you for the offer.”

“Oh, this is ridiculous,” Swerve said. He grabbed Magnus’ hand and pulled. It was ineffective as Magnus’ arm didn’t budge so much as a millimeter from Swerve’s tugging, but the point was made. “You wanted a drink and to sit with the crew, so you should do it!”

“It’s alright, Swerve,” Magnus said. “I would rather not cause trouble.”

“You won’t.”

“Can you really say that and believe it?” Magnus asked, his voice heavy. “They didn’t want me there, Swerve.”

The minibot slowly loosened his grip on Magnus’ hand. He dropped it and huffed. Magnus was stubborn.

But so was Swerve.

“Don’t move,” Swerve said.

* * *

Magnus stared as the minibot dashed away. Swerve skidded around the corner, his feet slipping. He caught himself on his hands before he could fall completely, and kept moving with a fire in his spirit. The sounds of his footsteps echoed in the near empty corridor, and Magnus sighed heavily.

Attempting to go to the bar had been a mistake.

 _What on earth had he been thinking?_ He wasn’t–that’s the answer. This is what happened when Ultra Magnus listened to Rodimus tell him he needed to get out more. Interact with the crew more, he had suggested. Swerve’s bar would be safe, the Captain had said. Everyone went there, he had said. Rodimus assured Magnus that going to Swerve’s bar to fraternize with the crew would be safe.

Rodimus had been wrong.

The second Ultra Magnus had reached the door, a hundred optics were locked onto his imposing figure, frozen and fearful. They dripped of guilt so palpable Magnus almost wanted to list unclaimed offenses and see who twitched. But he was too depressed at the fact it was incomprehensible to them that Magnus was there for anything other than a bust.

Magnus had left embarrassed, having lingered in the doorway as long as he had. It was a wonder no one had laughed.

“Magnus!” Swerve said, from beside his leg. When had the minibot arrived? Somewhere when he was lost in his thoughts? “You stayed! Great!”

“Yes?” Magnus answered. “What is it?”

“Tada!” Swere said, pulling two drinks out from behind his back. One drink bright pink in color, and the other a dulled color. “A regular for me, and a slightly spiked low grade for you! I figured you wouldn’t want any of the hard stuff after Hedonia.”

Magnus found himself too stunned to answer.

“You wanted a drink, right?” Swerve said. The minibot’s shoulders dropped a fraction, his hands tight around the two drinks. He chuckled, nerves and confidence fighting within him, given away by the slight nervous shiver. “And frankly, it really sucks to drink alone. Sir.”

Magnus raised an optic ridge, eyes fixated on the crafted beverages, glowing lightly in their glass containers. “I see.”

“So how about it?” Swerve said, his voice less sure than a moment earlier. He held out the glass meant for Magnus, optics hopeful. “Why don’t we go back to my hab-suite and have a drink. Just you and me.”

“That would be fine,” Magnus said.

The smile that spread on Swerve’s face as he took the drink, was probably worth the embarrassment of standing in an unwelcome doorway.


End file.
